


"Let’s Meet Again, For the First Time.”

by peppusae



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Heavy Angst, I don't even recommend you to read it lol-, This fanfic will have so much dark themes, dark angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23703208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppusae/pseuds/peppusae
Summary: There are so many possibilities for parallaxes. So many alternate universes, so many different personas, so many differences and shifts in time and dimensions…But the moment you feel a parallax between yourself and the person you love…That’s when you should start getting ready to let go.
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. delicate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, it's Een! ('｡• ω •｡')  
> I'm back again with a 707 fanfic! It's been ages since I started something new, and this will be my first one after I got my degree in English gAH. So maybe my writing would have improved by like 2%? Lololol!!  
> All of Mystic Messenger and its characters and plotline belong to Cheritz! This disclaimer is necessary because this story has been marked mature for a reason!~~  
> This story will contain profanity, sexual themes, and violence, and hence I don't really recommend you to read this lol. But if by chance you stumble upon this and want to read this despite that, please know that these are things you should be expecting!  
> This story is NOT a fluffy fanfic.  
> In fact, this is going to be my darkest and angstiest fanfics ever, so AAAH I'm excited to try something new ayyy  
> As usual, my amazing followers, I am forever thankful for the love and support you guys always shower me with! It always keeps me going, and laughing (*≧ω≦*)  
> So, without further ado! Here we go!~

_ You’re not drunk. You’re pretending to be. _

_ That’s the only reason why he has you pinned against the wall, lips feverishly trembling as the numbingly cold fingers of his run against your bare skin. _

_ These fingers… _

_ They’ve been to a lot of places before. It’s not hard to tell, especially with the way he just knows what to do next, knows that your legs are shaking so badly at his every touch, knows just how to stroke the inside of your thighs and make you moan his name. _

_ You knew that well enough, some of your acquaintances have already been the victim to his good looks, but… _

_ You’re bringing this to yourself, you know it well enough… _

_ And then; your vision goes dark. _


	2. ambivalence

_“Are you drunk?”_

_Saying yes would seem too rehearsed, right? You wonder, and find yourself shaking your head._

_“N-No. I’m n-not drunk!” You deny, voice becoming more high-pitched than you intended. But he buys it, fingers slowly pulling away the locks of your fringe away from your face._

_“Then… I’ll put the blindfold on.”_

_As fast as your mumble of acknowledge happens, your vision goes dark, and…_

_No matter how many people would advocate that he was a bad person for the horrible things he’d do…_

_You can’t believe them._

_Behind the facade of a successfully rich college student who goes around and fucks any and every girl that throws themselves at him and then never responds to them… There is someone else..._

_There is someone else, a much caring version, someone who wants such physical contact, someone who craves to bleed out his emotions, someone who’s heart pains when he sees something as subtle as a single tear streaming down your face._

_There is no way you can believe the others, not when he is right in front of you like this, whispering your name so carefully your ear._

_There is no way you can believe them, not when his build hovers over you, pecking on your lips so, so gently, his body pressed so tightly against your bare chest._

_There is no way you can believe them when his fingers are intertwined with yours, pressed against the bed, craving to hear his name being called out by you endlessly._

_There is no way you would believe anyone but him, especially not when he makes sure you reach your high before he even considers his own._

_Oh, Luciel, what are you doing to me?_

  
  


**\---**

Luciel.

His name is Choi Luciel, and he sits at the very front of the lecture hall, earnestly taking notes.

He never looks back. Not even once.

Even when someone else from the back speaks.

Even when someone calls his name.

He.

 _Never_.

Looks.

Back.

That was what Luciel looked like he was programmed to do, and your fingers still tremble at the raw thoughts swarming and replaying in your head.

It doesn’t matter if the girl isn’t that pretty, or even if she had looks worth that of a model.

Choi Luciel never looked back.

“You’ve done it with Luciel, haven’t you?”

Your thoughts are interrupted when your friend whispers in your ear, the out of the blue question making your face heat up and look at your classmate Juyun.

“Is… Is it that obvious?”

“It is. I already told you, didn’t I? Not to associate with him. Wealth, good looks, and secrets are never a good mix in one person.”

You knew that.

“You do realize that the people who did have sex with him always did so after they’ve had too many shots, right? He’s attractive, and I’m not going to deny that I felt the same way, but there is no connection besides the fact that we were two drunk and horny college students trying to let off some steam.”

“I do realize.”

“He put some kind of blindfold on me, saying it’s something he always does. I figured it’s a kink so I was like eh sure.”

There were three things that Luciel Choi always made sure of, whenever he takes a girl home.

One, he’d made sure they were drunk enough.

Two, he would _always_ put a blindfold over their faces.

And finally…

After the deed is done, he will _never_ look back or ever contact, much less even _talk_ to the person ever again.

How he does that, you honestly have no idea.

_Maybe he’s bad, so no one wants to go to him for a second time?_

No. If you had a bit of courage in your veins, you’d go back to him. You can never forget the way it felt to be held by him, to be caressed and handled so carefully, as if he was so scared that you’d break at his gentle touches.

What was it about him, that made you get yourself into this mess?

Is it because you’re weak to his honey yellow irises? Is it his scruffy vermillion red hair that is always, always toused first thing in the morning? Is it the way his headphones are always around his neck, or how sleepy his eyes look behind those dual-coloured pair of glasses he always has on?

The thoughts of the events from a couple of nights back still make you clench your toes, sighing each time you watch him enter the Introduction to Psychology lecture hall every day.

There has to be a reason why no one goes back to talk to him. He may not talk to the girls he’s fucked around with due to his playboy nature, sure, but the question is why none of the girls themselves ever spoke to him.

There has to be at least one person who would continue to try to pursue him, wouldn’t there?

Or was it just you? Was it just you who couldn’t hold your curiosity, your wonder and slight anger despite knowing this is exactly what would happen?

The hold on your files become tighter when the bell rings. There he sits, calm and collected, as he gathers his belongings to exit the hall.

“I’m heading out first.” You say, to Juyun, making your way past the seats and following the red-head out to the porch.

It’s the class right before lunch, so there are a lot of students out in the hallway, ready to take their breaks or head to the cafeteria to grab some lunch. Luciel has his headphones on, and you see him making his way towards the grass compound in the centre of campus.

“L-Luciel?”

No response.

“Luciel?” You call out a little louder, but there is no use. He was definitely listening to music or something…

It makes your fingers tremble, and for once, your entire palm feels numb while you grab a hold of a handful of his jacket, making him stop in his tracks.

When you finally manage to look up at him, you see that he has taken off one side of his headphone, turning around to look at the way you still have a hold on his dark black jacket. Letting go, you take a step back.

He’s intimidating from up close.

His features are so delicate and so, so attractive, but the way his weighted eyes look down at you with partially opened lips really does not lessen the little ache in your heart.

“Ah. You’re also in this college?” He tilts his head to the side, and you find yourself taking another step back. “Your name is...”

This makes your jaw drop open. Had he not known of that? Had he already forgotten your name?

And more importantly, why does he look _so_ sad?

You take a deep breath, biting on your bottom lip.

“I’m your classmate. We share the same classes for Introduction to Psychology, Routing Protocols, and Discrete Mathematics…”

Luciel blinks at you for a bit, before he scratches the back of his head.

“Ah. Okay. I’m sorry. I… I’ve never seen you in our class, I’ve been too busy focusing on studying. I hope you can forget and forgive me for everything.”

When he makes a little bow and turns around, your hands instantly reach back to his jacket, again.

_Forget and forgive?!_

“Luciel… I can forgive, but how can I _forget-_ ”

Your sentence stops when Luciel turns back to face you again, and this time, you could see that his eyes look even sadder, more clouded, and he uses a hand to brush off your clutch on his jacket.

“People like you annoy me the most.”

“W-What?”

“Listen. You’re supposed to hate me for never calling you back or even looking twice at you after I fucked you. And because you hate me, you’re supposed to resent me and never associate with me again. I hate lighthearted people like you who go against that norm.”

Your heart sinks. This was not the Luciel from two nights ago. This was not the Luciel from class, either.

This was another Luciel, and your gut fills with a tremendous amount of weight and fear at the way he takes a couple of steps close to you.

“Y-You.. Do you have any ulterior motives? You aren’t friends with _anyone,_ and you just-”

Once again, you’re interrupted, this time, when Lucel breaks out into sneer.

“Listen, Noona.” He says. It makes you so angry that hearing him call you that actually makes your heart race, even though another part of you wonders just _how_ he would know you’re older than him, if he doesn’t remember you from classes as he claims.

“I hate people who act like they know everything about me and try to decide how I should live my life. I hate having to take this route to make you shut up. But for your sake, follow me.”

_Huh?_

Luciel takes a firm grip on your wrist, pulling you along with him out to the compound. Usually, this place would be filled to the brim with students who are resting on the grass, hanging out with friends in between classes, or munching on a snack before their lectures.

But there were very few people here today, perhaps due to the timing, and you find yourself breathing heavily when you follow his fast strides and come to a halt when Luciel stops by one of the flower quads.

“Sit.”

_What is he going to do? Why is he making me sit here? What is he going to tell me here, where there aren’t many people? What is it-_

“Listen, Noona.” He starts, addressing you again and it makes your heart crumble because this was not the Luciel who held you so tight and called you by your name. “I’m… I’m a hacker. If you continue to try to talk with me, I might have to dig around and find something about you that you never want the world to know.”

Your eyes go wide.

“But-”

“Please refrain from talking to me ever again. It won’t be good for you.”

Your heart is beating so fast that it hurts your chest, enough for you to clutch a chunkful of your shirt and looking down at the grass. If there was something that you never wanted the world to know about you…

“You wouldn’t want anyone to know why you always wear those stupid gloves of yours, don’t you?” He raises an eyebrow, pointing at your right hand.

Your entire body shakes at that. Never in your life did you ever feel so cornered, so small, and so _claustrophobic_. It makes you stand up instantly, even though you’re barely able to keep yourself upright.

“If you don’t want everyone to know about that little _prosthetic_ finger of yours…” Luciel says, and he has on such a horrid sneer as he says that word that it makes you feel like you’d _hurl_. “Then please don’t ever talk to me again. You don’t want your college life to be ruined even before it starts, do you? Please listen to me, okay?”

It’s a defence mechanism of sorts, and you have your hands behind your back as you watch him get up and walk past you, his sneer gone now and replaced with a sad smile.

“Yes, I am that kind of scum.”

**\---**

**_"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." - e.a.p._ **


	3. endless struggle

_ There’s something about the way his touches are so tender… yet so careless, at the same time. _

_ It’s so tender, the way his hot breath forms tingles all over the back of your spine, how his fingers are so securely intertwined with yours, how each and every groan earns an even stronger clutch... How warm the tip of his nose feels as it brushes against your own, so delicately trailing down between your cleavage, your abdomen, and stops right by the apex of your thighs. _

_ It’s so delicate, how he takes his time for each motion, as if he was trying to learn every inch, every crevice of your bare body. As if each deep inhale you make whenever his gentle fingers find their way inside your folds and oh so sweetly consumes all of your sanity in one go, each single inhale has just that much effect on him as it does to your writhing body. _

_ And yet, his actions are just as careless, in the way he so deeply sinks his nails into your skin whenever your legs wobble each time his warm tongue laps over your so delicate spots - as if he knew just where to find all those delicious points that make you all but melt under his touch. _

_ It’s in the way he can barely keep himself away when you reach your high, how he’s so eager to find the warmth inside you, to be enveloped… His grip on your hips so carelessly tight that it makes your lips tremble and more tears dampen the blindfold you have on. _

_ Why am I doing this? _

_ He knows just what to do, to make you curl your toes and cry out his name, hot tears streaming from both your eyes as you watch him looking at you in disdain after he pulls the cloth off away from your face. _

_ And it is then, that you realize something so painfully apparent, yet something you try so hard to push to the back of your head, to the very bottom of your heart… _

_ You aren’t the only one he knows how to do this to, and you’ll never, ever know what that feels like, ever again. _

\---

Perhaps the reason why humans love each other is because they see something oh so heart wrenching, that it becomes impossible to stay away.

Perhaps unconditional love is to love someone even though they can trample over your heart with a sentence as short as a ‘leave me alone’.

Perhaps… Unconditional love is as toxic as poison is, for your veins.

The feelings you have for Luciel… It’s not love, is it? What is it?

It’s as ambiguous as the shape of the perfect wave crash at the sea, and the days that pass by in utter agony and fear continue, just like the waves in question.

You find yourself balling up your fingers into a fist.

_ Was this wrong of me? _

_ Was this wrong of me, to wear these gloves to hide an insecurity of mine? _

_ Was it wrong of me that I wanted to know what kind of looks those dull eyes of his can make, at me? _

_ Was it wrong of me to think that I would be different from the girls he’s touched and tattered? _

“Is something wrong?” Juyun interrupts your depressing thoughts, tapping on your glove. “You still look like you’re in a daze.”

She doesn’t do it intentionally - and she doesn’t know it - but her tap with her pencil is on your prosthetic finger, and it makes a little exaggerated tap sound than a normal finger would; but she doesn’t question it.

That’s because she doesn’t know.

No one knows.

Not even your  _ parents  _ know.

Why would anyone else know?

Your eyes find Luciel sitting at the front center of the lecture hall you’re in, and you find yourself letting out a loud exhale.

_ Then how the heck would Luciel know? _

There was no question about it. It was not a guess.

He knew. He  _ knew _ , and the extent he knew... That renders you terrified because it doesn’t stop at the fact that he simply knows you have a prosthetic finger, but how he also knows just how scared you are of anyone finding it out.

“[Name]?”

How can someone who looks so good, has such a beautiful voice, and has held you as if at the fear of being abandoned… Be like  _ that _ ?

Luciel has said that outright, that was undeniable, but…

How can you give up on him when he kissed you the way he did, oh so carefully?

“You’re going to get yourself hurt again, [Name].” Your friend Juyun calls, when you head off to the parking lot, following the redhead.

What was it about Luciel Choi, that made it impossible for you to be repelled even though he threatened you with something as scary as your life? You may never understand this, and it looks like Luciel doesn’t, either, when you follow him and open the passenger seat when he climbs into his car.

I guess hacking pays a lot of money, no wonder there are so many rumors of Luciel being rich.

Is his rich attribute what was making you attracted to him?

No.

Definitely not.

As you look at Luciel’s eyes, you see the same thing that made you feel this way about him - his eyes.

His forlorn eyes.

The rich amber of his irises sends shivers down your spine, not simply for the fact that you’ve never seen eyes as beautiful as his, but also because… You’ve never seen a pair of eyes that simply cry out this way.

Never.

Luciel’s lips are pressed tight together, his glance never leaving you when you climb into the seat and close the door. You can feel the weight of his somewhat perplexed stare in your veins, and as much as your legs won’t stop  _ shaking  _ at what other horrible thing he might say to you to form another lump inside your heart.

Hands tremble, yet you find yourself putting on your seatbelt, looking ahead and waiting for a response.

And you wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

But he does not speak.

“Home.”

A loud sigh finally escapes from between his lips, a little frown on as he puts his keys in and starts the engine.

“Yours, or mine?”

Now, that was not something you expected. In fact, you were readying yourself to be lashed out, insulted, and mocked too… But never to be given this choice to make.

“You’re the kind of person that just  _ asks _ for it, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps, that I am.”

Luciel presses a button on his speaker, and soft violin sounds fill the car, the hazy cold of the air conditioning unit breezing softly on my hair. His selection of music is just as depressing as his silence feels, and it’s hard not to try to break a momentum like that.

“I had Swan Neck Deformity.”

Luciel makes a turn to the right, and the road he’s on is familiar enough for your heart to drop.

He really was taking you to your house, not his.

“I know.”

“I got my prosthetic less than six months ago.”

“I know that, too.”

You look down to your lap, hands still trembling. He really was not lying when he said he knew enough about you to have your heart shattered, there was no way he would be lying when he looked like the way he did, eyes still on the road but lips tensely upturned.

“I was unlucky. I didn’t need a prosthetic, really.” You say, shaky hands pulling off the glove on your right hand. The thin silicon mold of your fake index finger greets you, and you take off the mold, the silver of the metallic prosthetic finger giving a shimmer. Luciel makes another turn, this time inviting himself into your neighbourhood.

And you’re expecting him to continue on driving, yet the car suddenly comes to a halt, enough for you to let out a little yelp in response.

“Luciel?”

The male glances at your face, eyes slowly sinking down to your finger, all sheerly metallic in its full glory.

“Why didn’t anyone take responsibility for it?”

“H-Huh?”

“Your joint. It could have been done carefully, but you chose some place that was cheaper because you could never fund for the overpriced kind of surgeries that a true professional doctor can perform… In a way, I could say that you brought that damage, and the infection that followed, upon yourself.”

Of course Luciel would say something that would make your heart be in shambles, of course that was to be expected…

But when Luciel says a fact he shouldn’t even have known in the first place… A fact no one else but him knows, a fact you’ve hidden from everyone so successfully…

How he’d come ahead and shatter all of that, including your heart instead of being on your side…

You expected it, but it hurts  _ so  _ much, enough for you to shakily put the silicon mold over the prosthetic and put your gloves on.

“They did take responsibility. That’s why I have a finger, even if it is a so-called one.”

“Responsibility in the form of having to _amputate_ your fucking finger? And then giving you a free prosthetic.” He raises an eyebrow in disgust. “Amazing, Noona. I knew you were dense and unassertive, but I didn’t think you’d also be a  _ sissy _ , on top of that.”

You open the car door, getting off before he can see that your eyes were brimmed and fuzzy with raw tears that ached so, so dearly.

Having any hope towards Luciel Choi, it seems, felt like hanging onto a thread; an endless struggle that left you as hollow as you feel as you slam the door shut with all your might and walk off.

Perhaps that’s the only thing you ever would have the might for, perhaps Luciel wasn’t wrong, after all.

Tantalizing, that’s what this love for Luciel feels like.

**\----**

  
  


**_“I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror.” - e.a.p._ **


	4. to each his own

_There is something so, so fulfilling, about his hold._

_It’s the right amount of lustful, and the right amount of fondness, the way he holds on with such tenderness in his touches._

_It’s almost scary. It’s almost scary, the way he whispers your name in your ear, beckoning and urging you to let loose, to let go of all your worries just for tonight, and let your heart out - even if it is for a little bit._

_And that’s exactly what worries you, because the amount of deja vu that you’re feeling is enough to make you want to cry, because his embrace is so, so perfectly warm like it just fits - like it’s meant to be… like it’s not wrong of you to have lied like this and got him to touch you in ways you shouldn’t have even let him - or thought of, in the first place._

_But it’s impossible._

_It’s impossible to let your heart stop beating irrevocably like this, to not clench onto his length and hearing the little choked grunts escaping from his lips._

_It’s impossible to not arch your back each time he gets inside you, to not have your lips quivering as his shaky hands run on your bare chest, to not give in to every single thing Luciel Choi wants to do._

_Even if you knew this would cause you nothing but pain…. And it did._

**\---**

“Are you fucking stupid?!” Juyun wants to know.

The air conditioning unit runs really cold for a huge lecture hall, and your hands are still trembling.

Mayhaps it’s because your eyes are set on Luciel Choi who’s sitting at the front of the lecture hall, or mayhaps it’s because you have your belongings packed, mumbling a low ‘I’ll meet you after class’ to your friend.

“Don’t go! Luciel is nasty, [Name]. Trust me on this.”

You’ve grown up with Juyun. She’s been your rock since middle school, and there is no one else you’d trust more than her.

But the fact that you want to do something she is _so_ against… The fact that you were bright and happy before you developed this curiosity towards Luciel… And the fact that you’d seen him glancing at you - just once - when he entered the hall first, and then gone to his seat…

All of that is reason enough for you to know that what you’re feeling for Luciel is something you need to act on.

You’re studying psychology. You’re doing it for a reason: to help understand people better.

If everything you’ve studied so far does not help you, then what’s the point?”

“I do trust you.” You tell your friend, standing up from your seat and walking down the steps. The lecturer has given you five minutes to decide on a partner to for a presentation, but you’ve decided within five seconds, who you’d do the presentation with.

No one else approaches him. It’s just how things have been going; your class had an odd number of students, so when a pair work pops up, Luciel willingly always becomes the one left out, refusing to join and form a three-way pair with anyone.

You’re hoping that Juyun is not left on her own today while you go past the mass number of chairs, crossing over and skipping down the steps and finally reaching the seat beside Luciel’s.

He notices instantly.

“Back off.”

“No.”

“Are you a masochist? And not the kinky kind, but the kind that just wants to be _bashed_ in the face until you can no longer breathe?”

You press your lips into a thin line, looking at the projected image on the screener in to try to hold in the fact that it was you who wanted to break his fucking headphones and glasses in half and then bash his face.

“I see now that that’s what you’d like to do to me.”

“You are not worth the time and effort for that. This is why I am politely asking you to fuck off.”

It is not at all polite, for sure. But you’re standing your ground, taking out your stationery and ignoring Luciel’s disgusted agitation.

“Do you prefer to do the research for the presentation, or to do the actual presenting?”  
“I’ll be doing both-”

“Stop being a pussy, and if you have unresolved issues, you need to take it out on someone else other than me. Or take it out on me if that’s what it takes for you to know a thing or two about humanity.”

Luciel chuckles, like he has a very good comeback to say in response, but he does not say a single thing, instead taking the sheet that the lecturer hands and refusing to let you see it.

“I’ll be doing the presentation, you can present it. I won’t be coming to class on that day, though. I hope that makes it clear how I feel about your presence.”

Your legs are trembling because it feels poisonous, what he says. It makes you feel so small, but that’s the entire intention that he has.

“Do people know that you’re such a horrible person?”

This makes Luciel chuckle, once again. You glance at the lecturer who has dismissed the class and then back at Luciel who has already gotten up from his seat beside you.

“You haven’t properly dropped me off at my home, like I asked you to, the other day. You should do it properly, today.” You say, taking your belongings and following him, despite the fact that you haven’t even packed up your stationery yet.

“It won’t be your house I drop you off to, if you dare to follow me, today.”

This was too much of a chance to let go off, and even though you can’t help but quiver in fear of what he must mean by that, you give a pleading look at Juyun who is looking at your following figure in what you can only make out as anger.

It’s going to be really, _really_ hard to explain it to her later. You knew that well as you follow Luciel out, his bright red hair and familiar dark black jacket being the only reason you don’t lose sight of him while you filter through the mass of students who have been dismissed from their classes for the day.

You follow Luciel out to the parking lot, standing in front of his car when he refuses to open the passenger door for you. He mouths a ‘move!’ which you ignore, trying to stay as indifferent about his angry expression as you could.

The engine of his car starts, and you sigh at him, wondering what he was trying to do. There was a van behind his car, and the two slots on either side were parked as well - Luciel really had no choice but to go from the front where you’re standing.

_He has to let me in. He has to. There is no other way._

You can feel chills in your teeth when the car slightly jolts forward, the front of the car bumping into your figure and making you stumble backwards in shock. Your eyes go wide in horror - _was that intentional, or did he seriously try to hit me…?!_

The sound of the car unlocking brings you back out of your thoughts of fear, and you get up - barely, your _legs_ are still shaking.

Why am I doing this?

You head to the window of the passenger seat which Luciel has pulled down and is looking at you with an actual _smile_ , as if he’s proud to have hit someone with his car.

“Let me in. You owe me at least that.”

“Show me your hand.”

You don’t realise how fragile and vulnerable Luciel leaves you, not until you raise your hand obliviously-

-And Luciel grabs onto your prosthetic finger; and he clutches it so tightly that when you pull away in surprise, your glove and also the silicone mold of your prosthetic finger comes off into his clutches.

“Luciel!” You cry out, using your other hand to hide the prosthetic that now has no shield and is exposed out.

“You’re dumb. Get inside.” He says, and you get inside and take your seat, blood boiling in anger - and this is a first, because you’ve gotten heart-broken and disappointed in him before but never angry.

Luciel refuses to give your gloves and the silicone mold back, putting it inside the storage compartment.

“Give it back.”

“I already told you, you won’t be going home today if you follow me.”

By now, your eyes feel teary, and you decide to stay quiet the entire ride.

Luciel’s house is huge; it’s a mansion, if you will.

After he parks the car in the garage, Luciel takes your gloves and silicone mold, carelessly stuffing it in his jeans pocket and getting out of the car. Your head feels like it might short-circuit any second, and it’s the thought that no one else would be around, that makes you get out of your seat and out of the car.

There are three other cars. The walk to the front of the door takes a good couple minutes, the security is tight enough that Luciel mumbles something in a language completely foreign to you before the door unlocks and Luciel gets inside.

It pains your heart a lot, because you have no idea what to be expecting from this place, yet he does not look back to see if you’re following even; he clearly gives _zero crap_ about you, and yet you’ve done this to yourself, and each time your eyes dart to your prosthetic finger, you can't help but fall your palms into fists, anger boiling in your veins.

The living room is a mess.

There are instant noodle cups and soda cans all over the counter, a heavy duvet sitting on top of a huge computer chair placed in front of three huge desktop monitors, two of which are turned off.

If on any other occasion where you don’t feel so exposed and claustrophobic as you feel now, maybe you’d look around.

Maybe you’d have cooked him a meal.

Maybe you’d have pulled him to the couch, held him tight, and kissed him, slowly and softly, caressing his face and taking it slow.

But this was not that time. Your irrational liking towards the male had led you to this: that you expected good things from him.

You expected him to be nice.

He wasn’t.

You expected him to let you in the car.

He did; but he also hit you with it.

You expected something affectionate from him when he asked for your hand.

He stole the one thing that keeps you sane.

It’s so, so _stupid_ of you to not realize an important thing when he leads you to one of the rooms in the hallway.

It’s _so stupid_ of you to actually follow him, when you should be demanding for him to hand over your belongings.

It’s so _fucking_ stupid of you to expect _anything_ from him; not when he leaves the room as soon as you enter it…

… And then _locks_ you inside.

Something snaps inside your heart; it feels like a heartstring, it’s so small, and yet it pain your entire heart because you realize something right then while the tears forming in your eyes spill out in streams.

It’s that… In regards to Luciel Choi, you should always, _always_ be expecting him to do the worst possible thing, that he will _never, ever_ wish for anything good for you.

 _Never_.

**\----**

**_“I have great faith in fools; self-confidence my friends call it.” - e.a.p._ **


End file.
